Saturday, March 24, 2007

A slow news day...

Mar del Plata, Argentina

March 23, 2007
S 37°59.389
W 057°32.687

Good news, the weather report was wrong for today. The forecast predicted a 90% chance of rain, but when we woke at 10:00 AM the skies were slightly overcast with no rain in sight.

We headed out for coffee (not the hotel breakfast), to test the weather, and figure out what we the day may hold for us. As we walked to the coffee shop, we noticed people pulled out all of their winter jackets over night; they were wearing scarves, down jackets and boots. We comfortably strolled the streets in our shorts, t-shirts and Tevas in the slightly cool 69° F weather. These people obviously don’t know cold… they need to take a little trip to Torres del Paine.

We decided it wasn’t a beach day since there was an offshore breeze that cooled things down a little too much and was causing an occasional sand-storm. Instead we went for a long walk, bought our bus tickets for Buenos Aires and found a festival in the park playing live music. Marc was very excited to hear music live, especially the familiar riffs of Stevie Ray Vaughn.

We finished the day with beers and dinner at the Cevezeria Artesenal. We arrived right when they opened, at 8:00 PM, and managed to have a beer before the place was too packed. By 8:45 PM the entire pub was standing room only and a line was out the door when we left at 10:30 PM.

We slowly walked the mile back to Hotel Gran Manila and called it a night at 11:30 PM. I guess we won’t be hitting the night-clubs in Buenos Aires; everything we’ve read says if you arrive before 3:00 AM you’re a nerd… I guess we’re nerds.

Tomorrow is supposed to be perfect weather; at least perfect for the beach. If so, we’ll be heading to the beach for sure—right after our morning coffee.

Friday, March 23, 2007

Breakfast, Pork and Lesbians...Next!

Mar del Plata, Argentina

March 22, 2007
S 37°59.389
W 057°32.687

24x7x365: Marc and I have an ongoing debate about the “free” breakfast included in our room fee. Marc feels the coffee sucks, the pastry and juice are shitty and he is going to go out and pay for it anyway, so why should he waste his time? Marc wants to ask for a refund and take the money… it seems he doesn’t understand this isn’t “Let’s Make a Deal” and not everyone is Monty Hall. Me, being the budget conscious one, still encourages the breakfast… you don’t know what it will be like until you try it, right? We’ve stayed in several places without even trying the “free” breakfast, but today I stressed we give it a shot before heading to the local coffee shop.

We don’t eat much for breakfast to begin with; we typically have a cup of coffee and one medialuna, or croissant. Most locals order two medialunas with their coffee, but we are fine with one. The majority of hotel breakfasts include medialunas, toast, coffee and juice—right up our alley, so why don’t we take advantage, right? I convinced Marc to give the breakfast a try today, if the coffee sucked then I would give up on the breakfasts. Well, the jury is still out! The coffee was better than anything we ever had in Chile, but that’s not saying much… more to come.

We got a little beach time today before we realized the sun wasn’t going to burn-off the clouds and headed back to our hotel. We showered and went out for a nice walk to find the local Cevezeria Artesanal that opened at 8:00 PM. We were too early to grab a beer; we weren’t ready for one anyway, but really just out on a walk to check out a different part of town. After the Cevezeria reconnaissance, we crossed the street to check out a Parilla that just slapped a couple sides of pig and lamb on the rotisserie. We thought to ourselves it might be a good place to come back to for dinner.

Rain started coming down as we headed back to the center of town; we ducked in between store fronts in an attempt to stay dry. We hop-scotched back to the Gran Hotel Manila and spent a couple hours drying off and relaxing, before venturing out for the evening. Our plan was to hit the Cevezeria and make our way back to the center for dinner.

We found our way back to the microbrewery without getting wet. When we walked in we immediately saw coasters and posters from different microbreweries all around the world—including Sierra Nevada and San Francisco Brewing Company. We sat down and made ourselves comfortable at the long bar… we each had two beers, the first one was okay for both of us—Porter and Scotch, but nothing to write home about. The second beer—Imperial Stout and Creamy Stout—were both excellent. After we finished the second drink, it was close to 10:00 PM and we figured we should find a place for dinner.

As we walked out of the microbrewery the rain was coming down in buckets. Instead of heading back to town we decided to take a chance on the Parilla we saw earlier in the day.

Marc ordered the beef and I ordered the pork, which was one of the meats we saw on the rotisserie earlier. We tried pork at other parillas, but tonight was a different story. The meat arrived at our table—a big steak and five silver dollar size chunks of pork. I was immediately overwhelmed and thought we would be taking half of this meat back to our room and placing it in our mini-fridge. I was wrong.

The beef, delicious as always, matched perfectly with the tasty chimichuri. I didn’t have high expectations for the pork, but my mind quickly changed after one bite. It was absolutely fantastic, as it should be, since the pig was gutted and skewered on the spit in the restaurant—you can’t get fresher than that!

We both shared the beef and pork and decided the pork actually won the contest tonight. We were very pleased with our decision to try the parilla and thanked the rain for driving us into this incredible find. It was still raining when we walked outside; giddy with our find, we decided to walk back “home” and enjoy the weather.

We decided to sleep in tomorrow and skip the free breakfast. We will find something on our own terms.

BTW… has anyone seen the show MTV NEXT? We are lucky enough to watch this show on a regular basis since it’s one of the few English language shows on Argentinean TV. Marc decided he loves NEXT as soon as we saw the lesbian version. Nothing like watching hot 19 year old lesbians banter in pre-scripted sexual innuendo… oh how we miss American television.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

American Express or Visa?

Mar del Plata, Argentina

March 21, 2007
S 37°59.389
W 057°32.687

We had a great day on the beach. The weather was perfect, nice and sunny with occasional clouds to provide a little shade. I realized this is the first time I have ever been in the Atlantic Ocean; I’ve seen the Atlantic, but never actually put my foot into it. The water was cool, but nothing like the bath water in Montanita, Ecuador. As for Marc, he first set foot in the Atlantic Ocean on his cross-country trip with Mike; if you want to see the videos, just give Mike a call.

We know we should be over it by now, but we’re still baffled by the whole concept of Sietsa. However, we finally know what everyone does during siesta, at least in Mar del Plata. We arrived at a fairly empty beach right around noon today. At 1:30 PM the beach slowly started filling up with locals. They ate their lunches, relaxed, and some jumped in for a swim; the exodus started around 3:30 PM—just in time for siesta to end at 4: 00 PM. This definitely helps explain why everyone has such a great tan.

The only people at the beach the entire day were retired folks. We think Mar del Plata is the equivalent to Argentineans as Del Boca Vista, Florida is to New Yorkers. With a beautiful beach like this, who can blame them? Apparently, during summertime, the beach is so packed with tourists and retirees that there isn’t even room to walk. Luckily we arrived during the low-season… we definitely prefer walking room and a little space to breath when we hit the beach.

After a few hours in the sun we decided to do a little yoga. We found a fairly remote spot on the beach. The session was great in the sun, but we were completely covered with sand when we finished. We made tracks back to our room (stopping first to pick up a few cold beers) for a good shower to get all of the sand off of us—well, we got most of it.

Other big news today—Marc shaved off the Grizzly Adams beard he grew in Torres del Paine. It served its purpose in the cold, but in this beautiful beach weather it just makes him hot and he said it was starting to make him feel mangy.

Other notes:

The place we are staying, Gran Hotel Manila, is listed as a 3-Star hotel (0ur strained view of the beach is above). Clean with a private bathroom; our only hard requirements. Marc thinks the bidet is a nice bonus; he believes the bidet may be the only valuable contribution France has made to the modern world. The place has some character as well as characters… especially the old man who works the evening shift.

The little old chap is probably is in his mid-to-late 70’s and hard of hearing. When we checked in yesterday, it took us at least 15 minutes to complete the registrar with him. He would ask a question, we would give him an answer, a correct answer, and he would ask again. For example, what nationality are you? Are you Canadian? We responded Estados Unidos. He then asked us if we are English. Sure dude, we´re English. We figured it was easier than going through the list of countries with him again.

After we finally finished the registrar, literally 15 minutes later. We gave him our AMEX card and he tried to read it upside-down... first sign of trouble. After several failed attempts swiping the card through the new-fangled contraption he actually handed us the machine. When the machine gave an error, he would simply unplug the machine and plug it back in again. This went on for at least ten minutes; us attempting to decipher the Spanish abbreviations on the card reader and him explaining (in Spanish) how it “should” work.

We finally suggested a Visa card… “Ahhhh, si, si, si, si! Visa es muy bueno!” he replied. We allowed the old-timer two tries with our Visa card when it was apparent he had no fn clue what he was doing (obviously not his fault… just a training issue). We suggested cash… “Ahhhh, si, si, si si! Efectivo es muy bueno!” and we headed out the door to find the nearest ATM.

We wondered why the hotel is paying a monthly fee to Visa, Mastercard and AMEX when their own employees clearly can’t use the machines. We knew better than to “ask why”… for some things down here it’s just the way it is.

We gave our night-clerk 400 pesos and all was good. The whole process was mind-boggling! We finally got in our room, took a shower and headed out to dinner a bit later. When we came downstairs old-timer was taking a little siesta in the lobby chair with the television blaring. We didn’t want to wake him (he had a hard day – new fangled contraptions and all) so we left our key on the counter and attempted to head out the door. Unfortunately, the door was locked and we had to wake him from his slumber to unlock the door to let us out.

When we returned home around midnight old-timer was still at his post, standing guard, at the Gran ol’ Manila… no wonder he needed a siesta!

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Back to the beach...

Mar del Plata, Argentina

March 20, 2007
S 37°59.389
W 057°32.687

I insisted we sit on top of the double-decker bus for our ride to Mar del Plata. I really wanted to see the views from the top as we crossed the countryside and had our first views of the Atlantic Ocean.

Well, we sat on the top of the bus, and next time I will request a seat on the bottom. We had the very front seats and could see everything happening right before our eyes—this included all the near misses as we passed one semi-truck after another. Being on the second level you’re farther from the bus’ center of gravity; thus every little shimmy and shake is greatly accentuated sitting 15 feet above the pavement. As we traveled down the narrow two lane road the on-shore winds didn’t help the situation. With the wind ripping I was amazed at how our driver passed trucks—including those coming towards us. We felt every single truck we passed accompanied by a loud WWWHHHOOOSSSSHHH! I finally put the curtains up in front of me to avoid seeing the road and to protect us from the blazing sun.

After seven and a half hours we arrived safely in Mar del Plata to an abundance of sun, beach cabanas, and thong bikinis. We found a little place to stay two blocks from the beach, and we even have a slight ocean-view if you strain your neck.

24x7x365:
We’ve received a few questions about how we’re doing as a couple being together every day, all day long. We’ve been together 24x7 for the past 70 days and probably a little more since we had time together preparing for the trip.

We’re doing very well and get along great… Marc thinks so too ;-). There have been a few tense situations like the “bag incident” and a few misunderstandings with locals due to our inability to fully understand the language. This doesn’t result in any serious issues between the two of us. We’re able to get by with the limited Spanish, but there are times when we don’t have a clue what is being said. We normally just laugh these issues off… what else can you do?

We definitely know each other’s annoying habits, most we knew before the trip, but some are new or more exposed being together 24x7. Marc started making fun of me and my stray hair fetish. I don’t like it when I can feel a hair on my shirt, tickling my arm or chest, and I have to find the damn thing. This sometimes results in us stopping and searching for this one annoying hair. Other examples include Marc’s knuckle cracking or post beverage burps… classy American.

Another challenge that Marc finds funny and I find frustrating is dinner conversation. As most of you know, Marc already tends to be a man of few words. But when we are together all day long, and see and do the same things, dinner tends to be me talking about nothing in particular and Marc occasionally nodding. We figure when we get to Buenos Aires we will spend a few hours apart a day while I attend Spanish Classes and Marc takes pictures.

Overall, I think we enjoy every minute, well almost every minute we spend together, and would hate to see something during the day that the other misses. This way we see all the great sites and share all the memories together. I think this is a pretty good trade-off for an occasional lull in the dinner conversation… More 24x7x365 to come.

Monday, March 19, 2007

So this is Bahia Blanca...

Bahia Blanca, Argentina

March 19, 2007
S 38°43.060
W 062°15.923

We woke up yesterday morning in a complete haze and tried to decipher the events from the night before—everything seemed a dream. It wasn’t a nightmare though since it did have a happy ending.

We finally managed to get out of our room around noon intent on finding some coffee. We only had one hour before siesta, and since it was Sunday we knew a lot of things would be closed. We found a cafĂ© got our “fix” and started roaming the vacant streets of Bahia Blanca; a town of over 300,000. We wondered where the heck the 300,000 residents were on a Sunday afternoon. The streets were barren, occasionally a car would buzz past us, and only a few people (seemingly wandering around with no direction), including us, populated the main square of town. We figured everyone must either be at church or still in bed.

We wandered the streets for a few more hours to get the blood flowing in our legs after the bus ride. We grabbed a few lunch-snacks at a cute little deli that just happened to be open and headed back to our room. Since we have wireless access we were able to take care of several things: book an apartment in Buenos Aires, update our blog, book a car for New Zealand, manage our Fidelity accounts, review our home rental statements, and catch up on email.

Bahia Blanca was like a completely different town at 8:00 PM as compared to earlier in the day. The streets were buzzing with people, restaurants were open, tables were scattered across sidewalks, and soccer was on every TV. The craft-market was set up in the middle of the park and food vendors lined the streets selling everything from hamburgers to cotton candy to popcorn. We even found another microbrewery that called our names.

Good thing we didn’t give up on Bahia Blanca; especially since we decided to stay another night to recover prior to our next bus ride to Mar del Plata.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Muy Bueno Karma!

Bahia Blanca, Argentina

March 17, 2007
S 38°43.060
W 062°15.923

The bus station and streets of El Bolson were pretty much deserted at 7AM; with the exception of stragglers coming home from the discotechas or those still drinking in the park. The lady where we were staying even questioned the existence of a 7AM bus since it isn’t common for Argentineans to be up that early—that was clear as we boarded the bus.

The bus from El Bolson took us as far as Bariloche. We waited an hour before transferring to another bus that was actually heading to Buenos Aires—a 24+ hour journey. Thank goodness our journey was “only” 13+ hours. We boarded our bus at precisely 10 AM and headed towards Bahia Blanca, our destination, on what should have been a long and uneventful day.

We headed out of the Lake District and took one last look at the perfectly colored sapphire blue lakes with picturesque mountain backdrops. As we headed east, the landscape changed to an agricultural setting with a labyrinth of irrigation ditches meandering through the fields next to the roads. The fields were lined with poplar trees, 30-50 ft tall, almost hiding the fruit trees behind them. The poplars provided shade and a wind brake to the cherries, apples, pears, plums and, of course, grapes.

We passed through several little towns very reminiscent of small California farm towns (Reedley, Lemoore, Clovis, Hughson, Denair) during the 60s and 70s. (Of course I have only seen pictures from the 60s.) We passed several 18 wheel trucks carrying wooden bins, stenciled with local farmer’s names or initials (LORI, LUGAR, IMF, TATI), full of fruit and headed for the cannery. After several hours we left the rich, agricultural soil and headed into a rough looking desert.

The entire trip was on a two lane road, but I think we spent as much time in the lane of on-coming traffic as in our own lane. At one point I think we passed a dozen semi trucks in a row and then darted back in our lane. Thank goodness I couldn’t really see out the front of the bus to know how close we really were to a head-on collision.

We stopped at several more bus stations before finally arriving in Bahia Blanca around 11:30 PM; 30 minutes after our scheduled arrival. We were happy to finally unload ourselves from the bus and couldn’t imagine another 12 hours to BA. Trust me; we would have taken a flight before enduring that bus ride!

Knowing we would be arriving close to midnight we pre-booked a hotel. We also decided to splurge a little for a place with a few more amenities, such as wireless access. We grabbed the first taxi we saw, a small white Fiat hatchback that could barely fit our two packs. We finally got everything in and closed the hatch and were on our way to the hotel. We made small talk with the driver on the short drive to the hotel (yes we’re from San Francisco -- Estados Unidos, yes we love Argentina, etc.). A wedding reception was just ending and the bride and groom were pulling away as we arrived. We got out of the cab and gave our driver a decent propina, or tip. We could tell he was surprised by the tip and seemed to enjoy spending a few minutes with a couple gringos from Estados Unidos.

Feeling very grimy after being on the bus for so long I immediately jumped into the shower. After my shower I started searching for our second water bottle, attached to Marc’s bag, to purify more water for the next morning. I scanned the room and couldn’t find it. I finally asked Marc. “Oh Fuck,” he exclaimed, “I left it in the cab.”

Marc’s bag is a shoulder type sling-bag that holds his camera, telephoto lense, memory cards, and, at the time, his iPOD. The vast majority of the photos on our blog our taken with Marc’s camera with only a few from mine. Fortunately, we shipped 3 of 4 memory cards home last week and we’ve been diligent about backing up our photos for situations like this. Needless to say, this was a big loss and very stressful… after several minutes and a few deep breaths we realized neither of us was hurt by the loss and everything was replaceable.

We immediately went downstairs and did our best to explain our situation to the two men (Mario Mariani & Ariel Mayor) working the night shift; it was about 12:45 AM at this time. They were the same men who helped us when we arrived at the hotel. They asked if we remembered the cab number or cab company, but after a 14 hour bus ride, noting the name and number of a cab was not high on our RADAR. In fact, at this hour and after that ride, we were lucky if we could remember our passport numbers. We explained we had no idea… they both solemnly shook their heads and we could tell they didn’t see a happy ending to the story.

Regardless, the nice men quickly got on the phone and started calling the various cab companies to report a lost bolson negra (black bag) left in the back seat. They suggested we go back to the bus station (picture to the right is the bus station during the day) to cover all of our bases. Now 1:00 AM, we jumped back into a cab and arrived at a nearly empty bus station a few minutes later, and explained our sob story to the information desk.

A police officer walked to the front of the station with us, told a few cab drivers what we were looking for and asked them to broadcast the information on their radios. He took our name and information, and told us he would call our hotel if it was returned. If we didn’t hear from him, he didn’t find the bag—it was that simple. Exhausted and dejected, we once again jumped back in a cab and headed back to our hotel.

Nothing changed when we arrived back at the hotel. We thanked the men and asked them to call if anything showed up in the middle of the night. We headed back upstairs; it was almost 2:00 AM at this point. I told Marc that I truly believed if the cab driver found the bag, he would return it. He seemed to like us and appreciated the tip. The unknown was if someone else found the bag first.

As Marc started putting a list together of everything he needed to replace immediately, and things that could wait until we returned to San Francisco (in a month), I looked up the word “reward” in my Spanish-English Dictionary.

In a last ditch effort I headed back downstairs. I told the two men we would give a “recompense” of 100 Argentina Pesos (~$33USD) for the return of the bag. They got back on the phone with all the cab companies and explained the reward. I thanked them again, reminded them to call, and headed back upstairs. We finally tried to get some sleep around 2:30 AM, but both of us were still disappointed about the loss and the effort required replacing everything. We accepted our fate at this point, it had been at least 2 ½ hours since the cab driver dropped us off and there was no sign of the bag. There was nothing more we could do.

The phone rang at 4:45 AM! I jumped out of bed immediately and told the men downstairs I would be right down. They informed me a cab driver was there and he claims he has the bag. I was dressed and at the door before Marc (just in his underwear) could even get to the edge of the bed, but I slowed down and waited as he handed me a 100 peso bill. I ran out the door without my glasses or any shoes. The wedding party was just returning as I hit the lobby, they looked fuzzy without my glasses. The cab driver was waiting just behind them. He explained he found the bag, but wasn’t sure who it belonged to until he heard the message over the radio.

I walked out to the cab with the driver. Marc’s bag was sitting all by itself in the front seat, waiting to be reunited with its owner. I told the guy how important the bag was to my husband and we really appreciated his honestly and efforts to return the bag. I handed him the 100 peso bill which he quickly refused—I insisted. This was more money than the guy probably made working all night long and we felt he deserved to buy something extra for himself, or his family.

I continued to thank the cabby profusely, and before grabbing the bag and heading back into the hotel I told him Muy Bueno, Muy Bueno Karma!, not knowing how to translate Karma into Spanish. He smiled and knew what I meant.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Good-bye to the Ford Falcon...

El Bolson, Argentina

March 16, 2007
S 41°57.942
W 071°32.091

Our time in El Bolson is coming to an end. We really liked the lazy little town, surrounded on both sides by the beautiful Andes and in the shadow of its ritzy neighbor Bariloche. We decided to relax a little today after our hike yesterday. The weather was perfect, as it has been the entire time we have been here, and decided to have another Park Day.

We took care of a few things in the morning such as buying food for tomorrow’s 14 hour bus ride, updating our blog, and having coffee; by the time siesta came around we figured there was no better place to spend it than in the park. We packed up our mate set and decided to have a relaxing afternoon.

Marc boiled water for our mate and I read about Bahia Blanca, our next stop. As we watched the traffic roll by the park we played a modified version of the game “Slug Bug.” We really didn’t slug each other and there aren’t any VW bugs in Argentina, at least none that we have seen. However, the old Ford Falcon is in abundance, as is the Ford Ranchero. I have never seen so many in my life. Ford must have saturated the Argentinean market in the late sixties with the Falcon; it seems at least 10% of the cars sputtering around El Bolson are beat-to-shit Falcons. We have found new information on the infamous Falcon... apparently this car was produced in mass quantities in Argentina from 1962-1991 and there are "conspiracy" links between Ford Motor and the collapse of Argentina's economy.

While relaxing in the sun, our traveling Cevezeria guy showed up with his Styrofoam ice chest. There was no hesitation today. Yes, we want a cerveza. I asked our hippy beer vendor what the name of his beer was. He told me it doesn’t have a name, that it is so unique it doesn’t really need one, but sometimes he calls it 442; a popular number in the area. We aren’t sure why this is; there is even a restaurant with this name. Oh well, I guess a good beer doesn’t really need a name… as long as you know the traveling salesman who sells it!

We’ve enjoyed our time in El Bolson and could see ourselves coming back at some point; possibly a side trip from Buenos Aires. One thing is for sure, we would come back during the four days of February when El Bolson hosts the Hops Festival!

Friday, March 16, 2007

Who needs Spanish...

El Bolson, Argentina

March 15, 2007
S 41°57.942
W 071°32.091

We decided to hit the trails around El Bolson for a little day hike today. Lonely Planet, “Trekking the Patagonian Andes” suggested grabbing a taxi to the starting point, Camp Hue Nain, instead of hiking the 2 hours on the dusty road to the starting point. We thought this was a great idea. We shouldn’t have any problems finding a taxi.

We thought the taxi stand would be the ideal place to wait, so we stood there for several minutes without any luck. We strolled towards the bus station, but there weren’t any recent arrivals; so, we headed back to the taxi stand.

We finally saw a cab and got really excited. Marc walked aggressively towards the cab as he would in San Francisco and waited for the person to get out. Perfect, so we thought. The cabby turned off her motor, both the driver and the passenger rolled up the windows, and then they simply sat there and conversed. We weren’t sure what was going on, but clearly a new fare wasn’t a priority. The passenger finally got out of the car, but when we explained to the driver we need a ride to Camp Hue Nain she explained she couldn’t help us and suggested we try the bus station. Typical, never a cab when you need one!

We were very close to giving up when I walked into the bus station as Marc sat outside still scanning for cabs. We knew there weren’t any local buses to Camp Hue Nain, but maybe the guys in the bus station knew a secret way to get to our destination. After a few minutes of negotiations I got us a ride; I came back out and let Marc know we were on our way.

Via roads better suited for a Humvee, not his little Toyota Corolla, our taxi driver recklessly drove us as close as possible to Camp Hue Nain before the road simply became too much for his car. We quickly realized we needed a ride back. Lonely Planet suggested hitchhiking or walking back to town, but the chance of hitching a ride seemed very remote and we figured it would take at least 2 hours on foot. We decided to try and convince our cabby to come back and pick us up. In my elementary Spanish (plus a 4 peso tip) I asked the driver to come back at 6:30 PM. He promised us he would.

Next, the driver explained the route to Camp Hue Nain in Spanish and I checked with Marc to see if he caught everything. Marc later told me he wasn’t sure how to respond to me while in front of the cabby… he said his first instinct was to laugh in my face. He didn’t have a clue so he figured a smile and good firm head-nod would convince the cab driver we had everything under control.

We hit the road pretty fast knowing we didn’t have a lot of time, but figured we should be able to cover the 20 km in 4-5 hours. We covered the first 3 km in no time at all. We did slow down to cross a rickety suspension bridge to get over the river. The bridge had a limit of one person at a time and no more than 150 kg. We abided by the one person at a time for good reason.

When we finally reached the trail head and the 20 km hike quickly turned into 30 km. There was a sign indicating the average duration to be at least 7 hours and the round-trip to be 30 km. We decided to get as far as we could before turning back to meet our taxi, provided he was going to show up.

In the first 2 hours Marc (GPS boy) determined we climbed from 315 meters to 1010 meters in the first 8 km; that’s a 9% grade. All signs indicated our final destination was still at least 3 hours away. We were down to one liter of water in the hot sun and knew we had to make the smart decision. There was no way we could continue at this pace without water so we decided to only go as far as Miridor de Raquel, the lookout over El Bolson.

We had lunch and finished off our water at the top of the Miridor overlooking the sleepy little town of El Bolson. The views of the valley were spectacular and the massive condors soaring over head were impressive. We figured the condors were probably searching for the cow remains we found on our scramble up to the Mirador. I guess Cox would have been really scared (see, Top 10 Lame Excuses).

As we started our descent we could hear massive thunder claps echoing across the mountains from the north. We were able to make our way down a lot faster than up, of course, and we returned to our starting point by 4:45 PM. We had almost two hours before our cab driver was "supposed" to show up. Luckily, there was a little sign for Cevezeria Kelly; yet another artesanal brewery. Wow, we really like these artesanal beers that seem to pop up everywhere.

Not knowing Cevezeria Kelly was actually a guy’s house, we wondered into the front yard of a dilapidated dwelling looking for a pub. When the owner casually sauntered out his front door we finally realized Cevezeria Kelly wasn’t a pub. Apparently “Mr. Kelly” is just a guy selling home-brewed beer out of his kitchen. We ordered two beers in plain brown bottles and sat down by the river to pass some time. The beer was light and refreshing, it really hit the spot, especially since we were out of water. Just as we finished our beers it started to rain. We returned the bottles to “Mr. Kelly,” thanked him for the brew and headed up to our waiting spot.

We still had 45 minutes to wait before our cab arrived. The rain was really starting to come down and we hoped my Spanish didn’t let us down. At 6:15 PM we heard the sound of a car approaching… it was our cab driver and he was fifteen minutes early—YAHOO!

Despite a little rain, the overall weather was perfect; we had a nice 20 km hike, and got a nice view of the El Boson valley. And of course we had the opportunity of sampling the very rare Argentinean beer at Cevezeria Kelly.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

A Park Day... Argentinean style.

El Bolson, Argentina

March 14, 2007
S 41°57.942
W 071°32.091

There are things we miss about home such as friends and family, but we have done our best to stay in close contact through our blog updates, emails and the occasional phone call. We’ve realized most of the things we miss are the small things; not our home, bed, clothes, TV, stereo, and definitely not our jobs. Instead we miss coffee at Trieste, “park days” in Washington Square, Giordano Brother’s sandwiches and live-music (especially Marc), and a good breakfast.

We realized today we haven’t had a real breakfast since we left at the end of January. We’ve had some nice breakfasts with fruit, granola, juice, coffee and bread/pastries, but no O’Reilly’s Irish breakfast. We decided we really wanted some bacon and eggs… a real Americano breakfast.

We were quickly lured into a place boasting Desayuno Americano—exactly what we were looking for. The breakfast included cafĂ© con leche, eggs, juice, toast with butter and local jam, ham and bacon. It sounded hearty and it was… it was everything we haven’t had since our last breakfast at O’Reilly’s (minus a perfect pint of Guiness). We walked out of the restaurant, completely satisfied, and good for at least another six weeks.

Sometimes when you are on vacation you do things you wouldn’t normally do at home. This might include hitchhiking, eating ice cream (twice a day), or buying homemade beer from a complete stranger in the park. We haven’t tried the hitchhiking yet. However, we’ve definitely had our share of ice cream including flavors like banana split, cassis, dulce de leche, coconut, dulce de leche con brownie, cherry, and countless other flavors that are still a complete mystery. But today we tried our first homemade beer purchased from a stranger in the park.

Marc received an email from Mike recently mentioning opening day of Washington Square Park 2007 in our San Francisco neighborhood. This was the one thing Marc knew he would miss from home, and after hearing from Mike we did our best to create our own opening day in El Bolson. The main parque, which hosts the craft faire on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, sits in the middle of town and usually has a fair number of characters roaming around. Similar to Washington Square, but not nearly as entertaining… there was no sign of a Moving Man, no Earl with his guitar, no Crazy Tom, no Fat Bum Guy, and the smell of marijuana wasn’t floating in the breeze. We still packed up the “park backpack,” South American style, with our mate, thermos, camp-stove (to boil water for tea), a few snacks, our radio (damn, no Giants games) and had our own park day in El Bolson.

After sitting down and getting comfortable we were offered a Cerveza Artenenal. The vendor, a long haired Argentinean hippy in need of a hot shower, was walking around with his Styrofoam ice chest. He politely explained (in Spanish and broken English) that he brewed and bottled the one liter bottles of beer himself and it was all organic. Marc politely declined, but something about the beer, and all the beer in the area, intrigued me. I suggested we try it…what the heck. I was fairly confident that it wasn’t laced with LSD, or spiked with a date rape drug… but if it was it would have been an even a better story. Plus, how could we go too far wrong for seven pesos ($2.25 USD). The bottle was sealed and he popped off the cap right in front of us. The ice-cold beer was terrific and another example these people treat the brewing of beer as a true art form. The only request from our vendor was to leave the bottle on the grass when we were finished. He collects the bottles at the end of the day and reuses them.

As we were getting ready to leave the park, we saw the vendor selling a bottle to a young couple next to us. They seemed skeptical, so we encouraged them to give the beer a shot. The vendor came by for our bottle; we told him to continue his art with a muy bueno and muchas gracias. He thanked us and seemed to have a genuine smile of satisfaction on his face as he walked away.

Both breakfast and our “park day” provided us a sense of normalcy in a time when we have a new place to stay every 2-4 nights. El Bolson is definitely a town where we can relax, at least for a few days. We’re still going to miss the small things, but with days like today it will help us miss them less.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Hey look, it´s Ralph!

El Bolson, Argentina

March 13, 2007
S 41°57.942
W 071°32.091

We took the first bus out of Colonial Suiza at 9:00 AM and grabbed a connecting bus from the central bus station for El Bolson. We figured we’d seen everything the sleepy little town had to offer. We enjoyed the peace and quiet on the lake, but we were ready for a change after camping on the dusty lake for a few nights. Plus, having just camped for seven nights we weren’t in the mood to go for the long haul.

When we arrived in El Bolson we quickly found a place to stay; a cute little place (La Posada de Hamelin) with white stone walls, wood beams, and plenty of shelves and drawers to tuck away our stuff while we call this place home for the next four days or so. We showered and headed out to the craft festival that is only in town on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. We hoped to find a tasty empanada to tide us through until dinner.

As we walked through the fair munching on our empanadas we bumped into our old buddy Ralph. Ralph is the nice gentleman from Tasmania we met in Torres del Paine ten days or so ago when we all set out to do the circuit around the park. We were as shocked to see him as he was to see us. When we last parted we all had plans to head south before heading back north. Neither he nor us were even contemplating a visit to El Bolson when we parted ways in Torres del Paine... small world! It appeared we weren’t the only ones tired of the cold weather in the south. We caught up with Ralph for a few minutes before we suggested meeting at the local microbrewery, Cevezeria El Bolson, for a drink later in the evening and then headed our separate ways.

The brewery, with nine different local beers on tap, is located about 2 km outside of town and was packed with locals. The brewing of beer in this area seems to be viewed as an art and savored and enjoyed as such. All of the beer we sampled at the little Cevezeria was excellent and we’re excited to check out more of the local beers in the area. We’re pleasantly surprised by the microbreweries and plan to take full advantage of them over the next few days.

Over the course of the evening we had 3 (maybe 4 pints) and really got to know Ralph better… he’s a cool guy with a good heart. Ralph gave us a ride back to our place (he rented a car and drove approx. 2000 km over the past 5 days); we parted just before midnight with discussions of doing a hike on Thursday or Friday. Regardless of whether we do the hike or not, we’re sure we will see Ralph again. How can we not?

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Hey, no one told us about the beer!

Colonial Suiza, Argentina
March 12, 2007
S 41°05.770
W 071°30.267

We had a perfect day today—the skies were blue, we went on a great hike, had a nice little picnic next to a stream with waterfalls flowing and finished it off with a fine Argentinean microbrew (Cerveza Gilbert). We woke up to bright blue skies as the sun was rising over the lake; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. We figured today was the best weather we’ve had since Santiago—one month ago. Of course, we spent the majority of the past month pretty far south, and got the weather that should be expected.

Marc was out of the tent by 7:00 AM to give another shot at the trout which provided us a very tranquil way to start the morning. The wind died down during the night and the lake where we are camping was like glass—very pristine.

Marc spent the first hour or so fishing in what appears to be another over fished lake. Little minnows were jumping near the shore, but they were only 3-5 inches long (like bait). Fishing season begins in December and goes until April 1st and every restaurant in the Lake District serves trout; with exception of the ice-cream shops (hmm, Helado de Trucha… that could be a hit!). Obviously, everyone is getting their fish from the surrounding lakes and it seems everyone caught their limit this year.

Since the fishing sucked, we decided to day hike to what we thought was another lake. We reviewed the map and figured the trip was approximately 6 km—perfect, we thought. After hiking for almost two hours we took another look at the map. The trail we were on was at least 12 km and we weren’t headed to a lake, we were actually headed to a Lagoon. There might not even be fish there!

We continued for at least another hour before hitting a steep ridge with a beautiful waterfall. We passed a local who told us the refugio and lagoon was at the top of the ridge. We opted to turn around and enjoy our picnic lunch on a sunny beach just downstream from the waterfall.

The ingredients for our lunch were purchased at a very cute Molinari-esque deli in Bariloche. So far, we’ve been lucky enough to find one of these little delis in every city in Argentina. Since we were camping we purchased items that didn’t need refrigeration: salami, cheese, olives, bread and miniature pickles. The lunch was perfect… we washed it down with a liter of ice-cold water right from the stream.

The hike ended up being closer to 20 km roundtrip, but it made the beer at the end of the day taste even better. Local micro-brews seem to be very popular in this area of Argentina; today’s beer was made and bottled right in Colonial Suiza. The label had a handwritten lot-number and an expiration date. It appeared the handcrafted beer, Cerveza Gilbert, has a three month shelf life and was bottled just weeks ago.

The beer was a perfect end to a perfect day. I am sure we will have more days like this as we head towards our next village, El Bolson.

Quiet Little Suzy...

Colonial Suiza, Argentina

March 11, 2007
S 41°05.770
W 071°30.267

We caught the local bus from Bariloche to another Lake District town, Colonial Suiza. The very crowded bus ride took just about one hour, but with the scenery along the way it could have lasted six hours and I would have cared less. The views of the lake and the mountains in the background were simply breathtaking. Every few minutes I tried to get Marc’s attention to show him another view of the pristine lakes.

We left Bariloche staring out over Lago Nahuel Huapi, but quickly weaved our way to other small villages within the Lake District. The Lake District boasts seven different lakes, and I think we have now seen three of the seven. We plan to day hike to another lake tomorrow, allowing Marc time to fish.

Colonial Suiza is a cute little mountain village on one tiny road. There are a few restaurants, and on Sundays they have an outdoor cookout where some type of meat is barbequed underground. The hole in the ground attracted the attention of many tourists when we first arrived, but we made our way to our campground before looping back to see what was cooking.

The camping spot, which is more like “car camping” than our nights in Torres del Paine, is a perfect spot right on the lake. We set up our tent, got settled in, and then Marc grabbed his fishing rod and tossed his line into the lake to see what was biting. The high winds prevented any action and he opted to try again in the morning just after sunrise.

We headed back to Main Street, a little late for the underground BBQ, but had an opportunity to try the local beer. We enjoyed our beers in a nice little courtyard where several locals sat around, drank mate, and ate different types of cake. Everyone seemed so laid-back, I even witnessed a hungry three year old lift up her mom’s shirt for a little snack and no one seemed to bat an eyelash—Yum, yum.

The courtyard started clearing out around 4:30 PM and everyone began queuing up for the 5:45 PM bus back to Bariloche. Luckily, we didn’t have to join them on the crowded bus, instead we just walked back to our campsite, boiled some water for our mate, and enjoyed a little more time on the beach.

Tea time...


Bariloche, Argentina

March 10, 2007
S 41°08.000
W 071°17.900

We are really enjoying the beautiful lake town of Bariloche. The town reminds us of Lake Tahoe, a town that is happening both in the summer and the winter. Bariloche is the same way; a thriving town during the summer months for those looking for events on the lake and again during the winter months for those ready to hit the slopes. We haven’t found a place like Sunnyside on the North Shore of Lake Tahoe for kick-ass-Bloody Mary’s, but we did find great steaks, microbrews and Argentinean wine.

Bariloche is located in the Andes, a quick flight from Buenos Aires, situated just over the border from Puerto Montt, Chile. Bariloche is the chocolate capital of Argentina, and reputedly houses the best ice cream shop too (Helados Jauja). We have been to the ice cream shop three times now and agree it is good… actually very good. We’ll have to wait until we arrive in Buenos Aires before we can officially determine if the ice cream in Bariloche is the best in the country.

As we have explored the streets of Bariloche, we’ve stumbles upon several people in parks with a thermos of hot water; all sipping some kind of drink out of a small container thru a straw. The groups are sometimes all male, sometimes all female, or a mixed group, regardless of the company, there is one common theme—the container and the straw. We saw this in Chile, but not as predominant as in Argentina. We figured we had to participate in this ritual.

We’ve discovered one of the main traditions in Argentina is to drink Mate with friends, family and co-workers. Mate is a dried chopped leave; a relative of holly leaves (essentially a tea). The ritual of preparing the mate and the camaraderie of friends and family is the whole point of having mate. Mate isn’t usually served in cafĂ©s due to the laborious preparation process and the very personal use of the gourds that serve as containers for the tea. It’s possible to travel throughout Argentina as a tourist without ever having mate. We didn’t want this to happen to us, so we bought a complete set-up to enjoy mate throughout our time in Argentina.

We found a local hardware store, away from the tourist area, to purchase our gourd (container), bombilla and thermos. It’s important to cure the gourd before you actually serve mate. In order to cure the gourd, you must pour boiling hot water and yerba mate tea inside and let it sit for 24 hours; the gourd thoroughly absorbs the water/mate combination.

We properly cured our gourd and tried the Argentinean tradition. We filled our gourd with mate, added hot water, and stirred it with our bombilla. The bombilla is a metal straw with a strainer at the bottom; preventing the leaves and twigs from getting into your mouth as you enjoy the tea. Most restaurants and hotels will fill your thermos with water at the proper temperature for mate for free... no questions asked.

When we shared our first round of mate today and enjoyed the flavor of the tea—a little bitter and earthy, like green tea, but not too bitter to require sugar or milk. We filled the gourd with water, took turns drinking the tea, and then re-filled the gourd until we ran out of hot water in our thermos. The whole process was soothing and fits into the very low-key Siesta culture of Argentina.

We’re headed out to explore the Seven Lakes tomorrow and will be camping for at least three nights, with our Mate of course.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Beef Baby, It´s All About the Beef...

Bariloche, Argentina

March 9, 2007
S 41°08.000
W 071°17.900

It is official; the beef is fantastic in Argentina. We had a few pieces of beef in Mendoza and enjoyed them, but the dinner we had tonight in Bariloche blew that away. In fact, it blew away any beef we have had in the States since the 70’s, probably pre-hormonal beef.

We walked into the recommended Parilla, or grill house for dinner tonight. The place was basic with the standard big wooden tables, nothing fancy, and a large grill (8 feet wide by 5 feet deep) and prep table in the middle of the room. The grill, with a winch like crank to help regulate the heat, moved up and down to allow the “chef” to stoke the fire—ensuring the best heat possible for the sizzling meat above.

Shortly after we sat down at the table, the waiter arrived to take our order. I started to recite our drink (bebido) order to him, which is usually the custom at most restaurants, but not this one. They immediately got down to business—the waiter only wanted to hear and was only interested in our dinner order. Luckily, we knew what we wanted: one porcion Bife de Chorizo (sirloin cut), Ensalada Mixto Completo (shaved carrots, onions, tomatoes, beets, egg, and lettuce) and two Empanadas to start with since we hadn’t eaten all day. A few moments later the drink waiter came to take our order and we promptly ordered a bottle of Malbec and a bottle of water (sin gas).

The empanadas, a perfect starter, arrived at our table shortly after the wine. They were a perfect teaser to what was to come and helped curb our hunger, which allowed us to truly enjoy every bite of the steak. The steak arrived cut in half, ready for us to share (we later decided this was a good thing or we might have fought for the last piece). The waiter put at least a 10 oz. steak on each of our plates, more red meat than either one of have had in months, if not years. The salad arrived at the same time in a large metal bowl with the carrot shavings on top. The salad was layered with the lettuce on the bottom, then the tomatoes, beets, onions, egg, and finally the perfect carrots. The salad included everything our bodies have been craving for at least a month (vegetables). We have had a few pieces of fruit here and there, but not a salad as delicious as this.

We put some Chimichurri sauce on the steak, cut into them, a little hesitant at first, not sure what to expect. We chewed the first few bites, ate some salad, and then officially decided this was the best piece of steak ever; not to mention, the best meal we have had since we departed the US.

As Marc was eating, he cut his steak into the smallest pieces to truly enjoy every last morsel. I have never seen him eat as slowly as he ate this steak. Marc figures the last time he had a steak (before Mendoza) was for Mike’s 35th birthday at Izzy’s Steaks & Chops in San Francisco (Mike will be 40 in May). Marc says he doesn’t really miss red meat, and has opted for a mostly vegetarian diet for the last 3-4 years. However, after the meal tonight, he thinks he might miss meat again.

Everything about the meal was perfect—the steak, the wine, the salad, the bill ($25, yes $25!), and, most importantly, the company. To quote Marc, “This steak is f’n incredible.” I know he meant it!

Friday, March 09, 2007

Good-Bye Chile...

Bariloche, Argentina

March 8, 2007

S 41°08.000
W 071°17.900

Our plan for the day was to get from Punta Arenas, Chile to Bariloche, Argentina. This included a flight from Punta Arenas to Puerto Montt, a transfer from the airport to the bus station in Puerto Montt, and then braving a 6-8 bus ride to Bariloche. The stars had to completely align for us to get all the way to Bariloche since the only segment that was “locked-down” was our flight… our expectations were low.

We stumbled out of our room in Punta Arenas at 4:30 AM for the local airport, we boarded our flight at 6:15AM and both of us immediately took a little nap on the plane. Our flight landed around 8:15AM in Puerto Montt. Only the first step of many…

We hoped to grab a local bus into town, but we were told the bus wouldn’t be there until 10:00AM. We didn’t want to wait for the bus for fear of misaligning the stars and screwing up our plans for the day. Additionally, we were down to 5000 Chilean Pesos (CLP) and we didn’t want to get more money since our goal was to get out of Chile with as little spare cash as possible. A taxi to the bus station was 7000 CLP, darn! It was about this time we bumped into a fellow American also trying to get from the airport to the bus station; she was also still in a stupor from waking up at 4:00 AM to catch the 6:00 AM flight—we completely understood. She suggested we split a cab to the bus station — this worked perfect for us and we jumped in the cab.

Our next step was to get the first bus to Bariloche; avoiding another night in Puerto Montt. We had a contingency plan in case we couldn’t get a bus, but we really didn’t want to use it. We got to the bus station at around 8:45AM; we hoped it would be early enough to catch the bus to Bariloche. We walked up to the bus counter, I noticed the sign for Bariloche—Todos Los Dias a las 8:30AM. Crap, it was 8:45AM… we missed the damn bus! Then I noticed a little sign right under the first one, Jueves y Domingo a las 10:45AM. Today was Thursday… I repeated the days of the week in order in Spanish to make sure I didn’t make a mistake. I repeated them again. This was too good to be true, we could catch the 10:45 AM bus!

We got to the front of the ticket counter and I asked for two tickets to Bariloche for today. It wasn’t too good to be true, the stars did align, and we bought ourselves two tickets to Bariloche at 10:45AM. It appeared we were going to make it all the way to Bariloche in one, very long, travel day.

After seven hours on the bus, we finally arrived in Bariloche; 14 ½ hours after we departed our hostel in Punta Arenas. We were very excited to be in Argentina after a month in Chile. Excited about all of the new activities, the chocolate, the wine, the beef and most importantly we were looking forward to some different food.

We found a cheap hostel ($33 per night), clean bed, clean bath, and a wonderful view of the lake (see above), we plan on spending at least 3 nights. We ate dinner at a Mexican restaurant that ended up being one of the better meals we have had to date; had some great microbrews at the local pub, and of course sampled some of the best ice cream in all of Argentina.

So far, we like what we have seen of Argentina and we hope we like the rest of it!

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Just Another Bus Story...

Punta Arenas, Chile

March 7, 2007
S 53°09.763
W 070°54.475

We arrived in Punta Arenas a little before 1:00 PM today and quickly headed to the same place we stayed last time we were in Punta Arenas, approximately two weeks ago. We expected to arrive a little earlier, around noon, giving us one hour to do a few things before the siesta started and everything closed down. Instead, we hit it perfectly!

The reason we were later than expected is because of a little “mishap” on the bus. The bus departed Puerto Natales at 8:30 AM for the 3 ½ hours ride. I quickly finished my book, “Hard Rain” and relaxed in my seat for a nice little nap. Two hours into the trip I woke up, confused as to why the bus stopped, and assumed we must be picking up a new passenger. I wasn’t sure where the passenger was coming from since it appeared we were in the middle-of-nowhere (BFE). There was nothing for miles except for open fields.

The driver and his assistant, possibly both mechanics, headed to the back of the bus to check out the engine. Marc peeked out the window and noticed a fan belt in the middle of the road. “We must have broken a fan belt,” Marc said. I figured we were in good shape and would be off in no time since the two “mechanics” seemed to have the situation under control and were making a few calls via cell phone (possibly notifying their boss they will be a little late). The driver came back onto the bus to start the engine. The engine struggled to catch, but failed... apparently something was still really wrong.

Marc and I got off the bus which was now steaming hot, especially since we were both wearing sweaters. We wandered around BFE for a few minutes since we didn’t have anything else to do. We thought about hitch-hiking the rest of the way, but figured the bus would be moving soon enough. We didn’t want to catch multiple rides, and really just wanted to get to Punta Arenas.

After about 35 minutes a white service truck pulled up. The driver quickly walks over to the truck and grabbed two big canisters of petrol from the back of the truck, the assistant grabbed the other two. Each container probably held 5 gallons of gas each.

We stood on the side of the road and watched our driver and his assistant proceed to siphon (coughing and spitting) the gas from the canisters, to the bus... we were in shock. How does a bus driver or a bus company forget to put enough gas into the bus before a 3 ½ hour bus ride? After the gas was in the bus, the driver jumped on the bus and the bus started right away. Yes, we really did run out of gas in the middle of BFE.

How this happened is beyond us… we did make it to Punta Arenas for what we hope is our last night in Chile. We just hope the next bus we get on doesn’t forget to fill-up first!

Real Food and Friends...

Puerto Natales, Chile

March 6, 2007
S 51°43.585
W 072°30.366

We spent the last few days re-entering society after our extended stay in Torres del Paine National Park. We had to do laundry, (yes, our clothes are officially de-funked), caught up on email and current events, and most importantly we gorged ourselves with the wonderful pizza from Mesita Grande.

We talked about the crispy, thin crust pizza from Mesita Grande since we ventured into the park. We knew it would be our first meal, complete with a bottle of wine, as soon as we got out of the park. The trip to Mesita Grande was better than expected when Luke and Fran, a nice Australian couple we spent time with in the park, walked in and shared the dining experience with us. It was perfect—good company and good food!

The pizza did not disappoint either. I ordered one with onions, mushrooms, ham and cheese. The crust was cooked perfectly in the brick oven, nice and crunchy, like a pizza from A16 or Pizzeria Delfina. Marc had a similar pizza, but his had local salami on it too. We ordered a nice bottle of local Cabernet Sauvignon, also a first since we returned from the park. We rounded out dinner by sharing a one of a kind pizza with shaved apples, walnuts, cinnamon and sugar, a dusting of powdered sugar, and a nice scoop of, yep; you guessed it, vanilla ice cream. We needed help with this pizza and called on Luke and Fran to pitch in and eat some of the scrumptious dessert.

Luke and Fran (in their mid 20’s) arrived in Chile a little over a week ago after spending four months working in the Falkland Islands shearing sheep and harvesting the wool. Luke explained the art of shearing to us, one of the last jobs that is truly manual and hasn’t changed in over 50 years, and described the shearing circuit that allows him to work all over the world. Luke is able to shear up to 200 sheep a day depending on the size of the sheep and the grade of its wool. It takes longer to shear a sheep with course hair than one with fine, and, of course, larger sheep take longer than smaller sheep. We found the process very intriguing and enjoyed hearing Luke and Fran talk about their experiences.

We bought our bus tickets for Punta Arenas. We head to Punta Arenas to catch a flight back to Puerto Montt; where we will catch a bus to Bariloche, Argentina. We’re ready to leave Chile behind, especially the food (with the exception of Mesita Grande), and really get to know Argentina. Hasta Luego Chile!

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

So this is Patagonia...

Torres del Paine National Park
February 25th thru March 4th 2007


Mark Twain supposedly said “the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco,” I guess he never visited Patagonia in the summer time, specifically Torres del Paine National Park. We were subjected to all types of weather during our trip through the park. This included snow, rain, sleet, and not to mention winds that literally knocked us off our feet on more than one occasion. We estimated the wind gusts were up to 50 mph, making me wonder how news reporters can actually stand, hold the microphone, and speak as they are standing in the eye of a hurricane with winds up to 100 mph and driving rain. I guess they don’t have 40 lb backpacks strapped to their torsos (acting as primitive sails), but that is completely different story.

The weather actually forced us to alter our route. We originally planned on doing what is know as the Circuit through the park (approx. 105km), but after waking up to sleet that quickly turned to snow after our first night we opted to do what is known as the “W” (approx. 85km) in reverse starting from our current location, Acampamento Torres. We were pleased with our decision after several others we met turned back due to snow that varied between mid-calf to mid-thigh depending on who you talked to. However, we still had our nights in the bitter cold snow.

The “W” is an excellent way of seeing the park. The fairly well-marked trails guided us to the beautiful sites in an appropriate order of good, better, and best. We scrambled up a ridge, as sleet ripped into our faces, over granite boulders ranging in the size of volleyballs to VW Bugs. Ultimately reaching the summit we were able to view the glorious Torres del Paine; three massive looming towers of Andean batholith rock standing over 2500m. The sun broke through the clouds and gave us perfect views for at least thirty minutes before the clouds moved back together; almost instantly hiding the towers, as if they were just a dream. The sleet followed our descent, making the boulder scramble not just technical, but dangerous and forced others to retreat without seeing the towering site—we felt fortunate.

The trails between camp sites were spectacular, whether it was a stunning waterfall, a rainbow falling into the lake, or a path through a forest that almost made you forget where you were. We would pop-out on the other side and see a snow capped mountain, or as we experienced going through Valle de Frances, our first sighting of a glacier, Glacier Frances. As we continued up the path to get a better view of Glacier Frances, we were able to catch a quick glimpse of the Cerro Paine Grande on the opposite side from Glacier Frances. As the wind ripped over the ridge we hiked up, it knocked us off our feet. Marc was literally caught mid-stride and tossed into a bush a meter off the trail. He could only laugh; we knew who was in charge at this point… the Weather and the Elements, it was now our job to follow their orders. In awe of the sites we pushed forward and continued snapping pictures while we had a rare break in the weather. The trek back down from Camp Britanico in the morning, after we camped in the snow, didn’t provide us with the same views as on our way up the day before, but we were still stunned at the beauty (even with snow hitting our faces like little bullets!).

We finished the trek with what we believe to be the most impressive natural sight we have ever witnessed, Glacier Grey. We reached the first lookout point over Lago Grey and immediately thought we were looking out into a white capped lake, but what we were really seeing was our first sighting of Glacier Grey.

From far away it was breathtaking, but we really couldn’t put a size perspective to the mountain of ice. We reached Acampamento Grey in the early afternoon and it was actually sunny! We set up our tent and immediately headed to the mirador, or lookout, for a better view of the glacier—we were not disappointed. Words cannot begin to describe the beauty we saw at the lookout, the view was 360 degrees, and we didn’t know which way to look. We had views of the glacier with monstrous snowcapped mountains in the backdrop and from the other directions we watched dozens of icebergs skirt across Lago Grey.

The lake water, gray in color, was speckled with icebergs that broke free from the glacier and were now free-floating, lost, like missing puzzle pieces. Others melted to almost nothing, translucent, hovering like pieces of ice in an evening cocktail, each unique in color, texture and shape. One had holes in it, resembling a piece of Swiss cheese; another looked like shaved ice that had been formed into a snow cone. As we sat and watched, the waves of Lago Grey steadily pummel the sculptures, melting them, constantly changing and destroying the art forms at the same moment. The colors varied from brilliant white against the grey waters of the lake to brilliant shades of blue depending on the angle, and strength of the sun, which continued to struggle and do its best to peak through the clouds.

We attempted to compare the glacier to something tangible since it appeared mammoth from our vantage point. It was at least a mile wide, and extended endlessly — unable to see the termination point. Eventually a ferry, packed with tourists, cruised by the front of the glacier, providing us some perspective. We estimated the towers of the glacier to reach at least ten stories high with massive crevasses separating the towers.

As we sat on the rocks, mesmerized by the sites around us, we heard chunks from the glacier break off into the waiting lake below, more missing puzzle pieces. This was exciting, at first, until we thought about what it really meant—losing the Glacier forever as it continues to recede.

The sites in the Park definitely make it worth suffering through the weather and the arduous kilometers of accents and descents. However, you quickly realize the people that are out on the trails with you make the downtime and the entire adventure more bearable. Misery loves company, right?

As we sat in the campsites, we traded trail stories with some wonderful people from all over the world. Some people just came from where we were going, or vise versa, and we would provide each other tips on how to bear the weather, sites that shouldn’t be missed, or other little nuances that help make the trek better.

I do want to mention Roger, Ralph and Isabella by name. We started the trip on the first day with the same intention—doing the Circuit. After our first night we seemingly all lost contact, but assumed that everyone was headed off to conquer the entire Circuit. Roger and Isabella made it up to Camp Seron (the first stage of the Circuit) before they headed back and found us along the trail two days later. They assumed we powered through and were very concerned about us, as we were very concerned about them, and were all pleased to see each other safe at the campground.

We assumed Ralph, a nice gentleman from Tasmania (only the second Tazy we have ever met, the first one in Fiji in 2002), was the remaining sole that was still attempting to forge his was through the Circuit since no one had seen him in two days. However, we literally bumped into Ralph on our way down from our night in the snow at Camp Britanico, as he also smartly abandoned his hope for conquering the Circuit due to the weather. Ralph also thought we powered through, and was happy to see us safe and us to see him. We all departed from the parks at different times with promises to see each other sometime in the future—we hope so.

We carried all of our own gear on this trip, no cushy porters to alleviate our load—this included our food. We each had a bag of food that included soup (chicken & rice, lentil, and semolina), a large chocolate bar for breakfast, pasta and sauce, a kilo of rice, a salami, and a small bottle of hot-sauce that magically added flavor to everything we ate, a chunk of cheese, some trail mix, and about eight Clif bars. We mixed the rice and soup mix for dinner each night, ate a small chunk of chocolate for breakfast, and shared a Clif Bar. The soup was chocked full of sodium, slightly diluted by the rice, and caused us to wake up each morning with cotton mouth as if we had been out partying the night before. We would snack on the trail mix, salami and cheese in between “meals.” As Marc continually reinforced at each “meal”… It’s just fuel, don’t worry about taste, worry about getting enough carbohydrates in your tank so you can keep warm and trek another 15km tomorrow.

Needless to say, we were at a caloric deficit each day. Marc assured me we could run at a caloric deficit for at least eight days (possibly ten) without entering a severe ketonic state. We knew there was a trade-off, more food meant more weight to carry and thus more calories expended each day. Less food meant less weight to carry, but also meant fewer calories burned each day… it was a balancing act. I just dreamed of our return and the tasty pizza at Mesita Grande in Puerto Natales. We returned too late for pizza our first night back in Puerto Natales, but we will have it tonight—I can’t wait.

We were shocked by the number of people who seemed to be unprepared for the trek. We heard from Isabella that a group of young Israeli kids showed up at Camp Seron without a rain fly for their tent. It snowed that night and they slept in the showers after being denied access to the lodge by a Chilean ranger, who had a dislike for unprepared Israelis in particular.

We arrived at the park with the proper gear, possibly saving our lives, but definitely making the adventure bearable. The most important pieces of gear for us were our waterproof tent (MSR HubbaHubba), zero degree down sleeping bag (Marmot-Never Summer), rain jacket (Patagonia & Eddie-Bauer), and well-worn water-proofed boots (Vasque). We had two sets of clothes—warm and dry—we put on the dry clothes at the end of each day, which reduced the energy to keep our bodies warm (again, it’s all about calorie conservation). We wore tights under our pants the entire trip which kept us nice and warm in the high winds, rain and snow. Our Nalgene bottles (only made in USA) proved invaluable too, not only did we drink out of them during the day, but we were able to fill them with boiling water at night and place them in our sleeping bags. This warmed up our bags before we got in them, reducing caloric output from our bodies to heat them up—calories our body really couldn’t spare.

Our hygiene, or lack-there-of, was another topic throughout our trek. As I said, we kept our tights on the entire trip, except for when we used our little anti-bacterial wipes to “bathe.” We tried to make our hygiene tolerable to those around us, but there is no denying, we reeked! The clothes we wore during the day, including our socks, went into the bottom of our sleeping bags at night to dry out, but this allowed our sock odor to permeate into the rest of our clothes. Not that our other clothes smelled of roses, no, those were filled with sweat during the day. We “bathed” regularly with the towels and applied fresh deodorant, which temporarily masked the sweaty, stinky smell. The showers at the campsites were tempting, but the water was “sometimes” hot, and a cold shower in the cold wind and rain wasn’t really inviting. As Marc would also continually say, “Never, ever, let yourself get cold and you won’t have to waste the energy to get yourself warm!” We did hit the shower as soon as we got into Puerto Natales and took our clothes to the Lavanderia with hopes that they will be defunked when we pick them up!

The bus ride in and out of the park was a little rough since the Chilean government is literally building a road to transport more visitors into Torres del Paine. The road into the park is gravel and dirt, with a few sections that are paved. The bus jumps on and off the paved sections throughout the journey as the construction workers monitor the traffic.

The expansion of the park was apparent in the Refugios, or cabins, along the trails. The Refugios that are easily accessible to tourists who couldn’t, or don’t want to hike, have more amenities, such as rooms with a bed, full meal service, and of course a hotel feel… similar, but not as swanky as the Ahwahnee Hotel in Yosemite National Park. I am sure the Refugios will continue to grow in size and level of comfort, as the number of tourists who discover the beauty in the park increases.

As our trip progressed, we would occasionally sit in one of the lodges at the refugio, and hear different rumors that were passed amongst the travelers. I mentioned the varying levels of snow along the circuit, some people said calf-high; others claimed it was thigh high. The number of days Paso John Garner was closed also varied as did the weather reports. We also heard about, and might have even seen, a guy either training to run, or running, the entire Circuit in 17 hours. The goal is to break the all time record which is currently around 23 hours. As with the game of telephone, the stories changed as they were passed between different travelers, but it was all in good fun!

Now that we are back in Puerto Natales, we thought a little bit about what we would do different next time—when we come back to conquer the Circuit. We decided we would definitely come earlier in the season, such as December or January, for better weather, at least we think. We would also make sure we have knee high gators. We trekked in gators that are mid-calf that are more designed to keep debris out of our boots, but the knee high, Gortex gators would be better in the rain, snow and wind we encountered during our trek. In fact, we will pick these up in San Francisco before we head to New Zealand.

In summary, we were up against elements we have never experienced, specifically the wind, but we rallied, worked together and had a spectacular time in Torres del Paine National Park. We both grew up with Yosemite National Park and the Sierra Nevada’s in our backyards, spending a lot of time there, but Torres del Paine is on an entirely different level of beauty. If you are at all thinking of heading south to see the Glaciers and the beauty in the park, do it soon! (Please wait until “summertime.”) When the paved road to the park is finished in the upcoming months, each day will bring more tourists to this beautiful park. At some point, the government will have to limit the number of daily visitors to preserve the parks trails and wildlife, similar to the Inca Trail in Peru’s Machu Pichu. Come… come, before it is too late!